


The Idiot Box

by KannaOphelia



Series: 31 First Kisses: Good Omens [18]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), Bickering is a sign of love, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Ineffable idiots in love, M/M, Pining Crowley (Good Omens), Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Provocative eating of strawberries and cream, Sword fighting is sexy, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, blurted confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:29:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27002773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KannaOphelia/pseuds/KannaOphelia
Summary: Free of Heaven and Hell, the whole of eternity opened up before them. Crowley, faced with endless possibilities, decided to spend it watching the telly. And as he had privately decided to spend the whole of eternity with Aziraphale, whether Aziraphale was aware of it or not, it was important to introduce Aziraphale to the habit of nightly television watching. On his couch. Together. Side by side.Aziraphale doesn't seem all that impressed by the television, but the strawberries Crowley secretly grew for him are another matter entirely.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: 31 First Kisses: Good Omens [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1559824
Comments: 53
Kudos: 262
Collections: An Angel and a Demon Walked into a Bookshop: Ineffable Husbands Stories





	The Idiot Box

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IneffableDemon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableDemon/gifts).



> For Val, the mistress of sexy Crowley/Aziraphale sword fights. You have been a blast of sunshine in my life since the first time we squeed over tropes. Thank you for your friendship.

Free of Heaven and Hell, the whole of eternity opened up before them. Crowley, faced with endless possibilities, decided to spend it watching the telly. And as he had privately decided to spend the whole of eternity with Aziraphale, whether Aziraphale was aware of it or not, it was important to introduce Aziraphale to the habit of nightly television watching. On his couch. Together. Side by side. Close enough to breathe him in, get heady on the smell of ozone and paper and wine.

Perhaps, it it was cold, they could share a rug over their laps. Crowley could slip his hand under it and find Aziraphale's hand, casually and coolly, like the completely chill and suave way he had grabbed for his hand on the bus from Tadfield. Or Crowley could doze off, head on Aziraphale's shoulder, just awake enough to notice if Aziraphale pressed a secret kiss to his hair or whispered tender words, and then he could wake up and...

...probably best not get carried away. Sometimes a vivid imagination was a drawback. In any case, the experiment was not going well.

"I've never seen the appeal of the cinema, let alone a Televisor set."

"No one calls them Televisors any more." Crowley glared at Aziraphale, trying to work out if he was doing it on purpose to provoke him. Usually, Aziraphale could drag his mind at least into the fifties.

Aziraphale huffed. "Television set, then." He relaxed a little, the sweet smile turning up the corner of his lips. "I brought a rather cheeky American brandy, if we _must_ indulge in crass pleasures."

" _You're_ rather cheeky," huffed Crowley in return, without much rancor. Aziraphale's smile was quite unfairly adorable. He examined the label and nodded. Acceptable, and Aziraphale bringing a brandy less than fifty years old was a sign of... something. He wasn't sure what. "Television is one of my proudest achievements, you know."

"Of course I know. You spent years zooming back and forth between America, Scotland and Japan. I barely saw scale nor feather of you." There was a certain note of petulance in Aziraphale's voice that... Well. better not to read too much into it. Those had been awkward days, in between holy water messages and being able to carry Aziraphale off from Nazis like a, if Crowley did so so himself, extremely cool chivalrous knight. "I do hope you've paid your BBC license."

"You hope nothing of the sort. Hell is furious with me anyway, and you want me to go around paying BBC licenses?"

"Oh, dear. Perhaps I shouldn't watch, then. One needs to set a good example."

"One _needs_ not do anything. One no longer has to answer to lavender wings. Look, if it makes you feel better, it's free for over 75s, and I'm _certainly_ older than that." He crossed his fingers behind his back, sure that Aziraphale didn't keep up to date with recent Tory legislation. The Tories, Aziraphale insisted firmly, were exclusively the business of Down There, no matter what they insisted themselves. "Wait." Crowley took off his sunglasses, the better to narrow his eyes suspiciously. "You don't know what to call a telly, but you know all about BBC licenses?"

Aziraphale looked at him, his eyes currently china-blue and innocent as a porcelain doll's, and smiled. "I must have overheard it somewhere."

"You're sure you don't have a telly of your own hidden somewhere in the bookshop?"

Aziraphale wriggled his shoulders. "Why would I want one? They are literally infernal devices."

Crowley hummed, but decided to let it go. He had planned this too carefully for that. There was a dish of luscious fresh strawberries and hand-clotted cream on the brand new coffee table in front of them, and it was essential to his immediate future happiness that he watch Aziraphale eat them. Wrapping his lips around them and staining his mouth red, licking strawberry juice and cream from his fingers. The strawberries were sweet and juicy, and Crowley should know, because he had spent every morning for the last few weeks putting the fear of garbage disposal into the strawberry plants in his new hanging baskets. They wouldn't dare let down his angel. No, Crowley wasn't going to risk not getting to see Aziraphale eat strawberries that he had secretly grown for them.

"Let me introduce you to the glorious art of situation comedies," he said.

Aziraphale sat very stiffly and primly, but they were so close their thighs were almost touching, and it was enough. If was wonderful. So, it turned out, were strawberries dipped in brandy, and the little squirms and sounds of pleasure Aziraphale made eating them.

By the time the brandy had gone right down in the bottle, Aziraphale was even chuckling over _The Golden Girls._ And Crowley had slumped against his shoulder a bit and _not been pushed away._ It really was a glorious post-Apocalypse.

Somehow they ended up on _Mask of Zorro,_ tipsily arguing over the historical inaccuracies.

"He does look very dashing all in black," Aziraphale said, lolling a little in his seat. "What did you say the player's name was again? Anthony Banderos?"

"Antonio." Why did hearing Aziraphale say "Anthony" make his voice thick in his throat?"

"Ah." Aziraphale dipped a half-bitten strawberry into his snifter of brandy, then dragged it through the dish of clotted cream before putting it in his mouth. Wait, wasn't that _Crowley's_ snifter? Well, Aziraphale was always a bit merry on brandy. Nothing to think of. "Pity."

And that was a thing.

Elena drew the tip of her sword across Zorro's throat, caressing his Adam's apple, and Crowley swallowed. He hadn't remembeed it being quite so... sensual.

"That young lady has a very impressive chest," Aziraphale said conversationally.

"Nsserrimpressivyrs," muttered Crowley, who had perhaps had too much brandy. That was why his cheeks were flaming, anyway.

"I beg your pardon, my dear?"

"Nothing." Zorro drew his fingers along the tip of Elena's blade, and Crowley hastily gulped down brandy to soothe his dry throat. The brandy Aziraphale had just dipped the strawberry in. Fresh from his own lips and teeth, and possibly his tongue had touched it, too. Oh dear, as Azirphale might say, and oh fuck, as Crowley was definitely not thinking right now.

"I like his necklace. I always found silver chains quite fetching," Aziraphale murmured, almost to himself. Crowley clutched the chain around his neck, realised what he was doing, and hastily let go.

Was... did Azirpahale just _chuckle_?

The sword tip sliced through Zorro's shirt, revealing bare skin, and Elena raised her sword to his throat again, smirking.

"Oh, I'm glad she took her negligee off. She's probably more comfortable in just her underwear," Aziraphale remarked. He neatly licked some cream off a strawberry, with the neat tip of his pink tongue. She must be getting quite overheated."

Crowley managed something that was almost a word.

"We never did duel against each other, when such things were a fashion, did we?"

"Wouldn't want to risk discorporating you, angel." Too much brandy. Too much of Aziraphale eating those blasted strawberries. Why did he think this had been a good idea? He was inches away from blurting, _I would never harm you, never hurt you, I'd do anything for you angel, I love you with all my heart and I'm yours._

"Oh." They watched as the fencing brought Zorro and Elena in close, and he stole a kiss from her. "It seems rather a pity."

"Yeah." Aziraphale had been beautiful in the days of duels. Beautiful always. But with stockings clinging to his magnificent calves, dressed in silk...

Aziraphale pouted adorably. "Oh dear, her clothes appear to have fallen off. I suppose the weather is warm enough for her not to catch a chill."

Crowley barked with laughter despite himself. "Oh, angel, I love you."

Aziraphale moved a hand, and the television switched off. Aziraphale stared at the blank grey screen as if it was more interesting than any shows they had watched together. "Crowley, did you just say...."

"No. No. Absolutely not. I mean, I've spent six thousand years not saying it, not going to let it slip out while watching telly, gotta work up to it, take it slow--"

Aziraphale tasted of strawberries and cream and angel, and his arms were strong, and his lips were firm and giving all at once, just like his belly, just like his thighs which were somehow beneath Crowley. He didn't remember crawling onto Aziraphale's lap, but that was all right, it certainly was a very convenient position for kissing, letting him press close and open his mouth and drown in the kiss, those strong arms around him in perfect acceptance.

Aziraphale was even more beautiful than usual when he was flushed and his eyes were shining.

"Going slowly doesn't mean not moving forward at all," Aziraphale breathed. "My precious boy."

Precious. Now, that was a thing. Crowley hadn't been called precious since... Well. Ever. Had never been precious to anyone. Had never been looked at softly, adoringly, fondly, lustfully...

"You have no idea," Aziraphale said, as if he was reading his mind, "how I look at you when you are turned away."

"Maybe I do." Crowley pressed a fervent kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Maybe I do, now. If it's anything like the way I look at you."

"With love?" So impossibly tender, his expression. Almost unbearably so, like his own heart was reflected back at him. Surely, surely Aziraphale couldn't love him like that. Not the way he loved him. After all, Aziraphale was _made_ to love, everything about him was lovable, and Crowley was the fallen, the unforgivable, and even if they had a lot in common...

Wait, Aziraphale had just asked a very important question.

"Yeah." Eloquent as usual, just great. "You mean, you too?"

"My _dear_ demon, I love you so very much." Impossible to do anything but kiss him again. It was even better, tongues sliding more confidently against each other, electricity arcing through Crowley as he tried to press even closer, greedy for affection, his whole heart and soul and body aching for it. "But I have a confession."

"Mm, forgive you."

"I haven't even said what it is."

"Forgive you anyway. Forgive you _anything_ , so long as you kiss me again." Fuck, Aziraphale really did moan into kisses the way he made soft sounds when eating. God knows what noises he would make when he...

Their lips parted. "I'm quite fond of quiz shows."

Crowley shouted with laughter, and then there was no attention for anything but Aziraphale.


End file.
